G. Lippert - James Potter and the Curse of the Gatekeeper

James shook his head. "Just Zane being Zane. Come on, let's get this over with."

"So what do you need me to do?"

James took a deep breath and looked down the very dark, very silent corridor. "Just get me into the Headmaster's office," he whispered. "After that, as Zane would say, it's all quantum."

James had hoped that the password to the Headmaster's staircase hadn't changed since he, Ralph, and Rose had gone to ask permission to start the Defence Club. By the time he got to the gargoyle guarding the entrance, he'd nearly forgotten the old Welsh phrase, but when he remembered it and said it aloud, the gargoyle stepped tiredly aside.

"Nothing good comes from such a late visit," the gargoyle muttered as James and Cedric passed. "But then again, what do I know? My head's made of marble."

At the top of the staircase, Cedric walked silently through the office door. A few moments later, the bolt shot back from the inside and the door creaked slowly open.

"They're all asleep," Cedric whispered, indicating the headmasters' portraits. "Even Dumbledore and Snape."

James nodded and crept into the room. The office was quite dark and foreboding despite the sound of mingled snores from the portraits. A single beam of moonlight laid a stripe across the floor, up the front of the massive desk, and across Merlin's Focusing Book. James crept across the floor toward the desk, not wishing to look at the Amsera Certh but unable to avoid it. The surface of the Mirror was thick with rolling, silvery smoke, casting its own pale light on the nearby furnishings.

"I only n-need a few m-minutes," James whispered, his teeth chattering. The Headmaster's office was unusually cold. James could see his breath puffing as he spoke. "I just need you t-to lock the door afterwards…"

There was no answer. Cedric had already gone out to the hallway to wait. He'd told James that he hated being in Merlin's office. "Too many traps," he'd explained simply, "even for a ghost."

Something white and flitting reached lazily out toward James. He jumped, and his heart lurched up into his throat, pounding wildly. It was only the linen curtains hung over the window, billowing in a sudden breeze. It was no wonder the office was so cold. Merlin had left his window open, leaving the cold night wind to play in the curtains. Through the window, James could just see the arc of the moon. It hung in the sky like a bone-colored scythe. He shivered and willed his heart to stop pounding. Trembling, he turned back to the desk.

The Focusing Book seemed to glow in the beam of moonlight. The closed cover was very thick, bound with polished wood and brass hinges. There was a lock, but it was unlatched. James touched the book, and then quickly opened it, wanting to get the task over as soon as possible. The pages were heavy, made of a rich, creamy paper that slid easily under James' fingertips. Every page was almost entirely blank except for a single line handwritten in ink: a place and a date. James flipped through them as quickly and carefully as possible, reading each one. After a minute, an idea struck him. He flipped to the end of the book and found blank pages. Quickly, he paged backwards, riffling through the heavy, blank pages until he got to the last one with writing on it. He stopped, jabbed a finger at it and read: 'THE GRAVE OF THE SOUGHT HOST, OCTOBER'.

This was it. He hoped it would work, and yet, even now, part of him also hoped it wouldn't. He backed away from the book, his eyes wide and his heart still hammering. He could tell by the change in the lighting of the room that the Mirror had focused. There was the sound of wind creaking in trees and rustling leaves. Slowly, James produced his glasses from the pocket of his pyjamas and put them on. He didn't want to miss anything this time. Finally, he turned around.

The scene was exactly as he'd remembered. There was the grave of Tom Riddle, choked with vines and topped with the smiling, handsome statue. Daylight filtered through the trees, grey and misty. Now that James knew what to look for, he could see the creature of smoke and ash standing in front of the grave. As before, the ragged bottom of the cloak blew in the wind with no feet coming out of it. Something about the figure defied the eye, forced it away, but James made himself look at it. Was this the Gatekeeper of whom Farrigan had spoken? James felt a sinking certainty that it was. As before, it looked less like a cloaked figure and more like a hole cut in space, showing some awful infinity of swirling blackness and swarming cinders.

James waited and watched, shivering in the cold of the Headmaster's office. Outside, the wind seemed to be increasing. It pushed restlessly through the window, flapping the curtains. Finally, as James watched, the Gatekeeper raised its arm, letting the sleeve fall back. The hand was thin and pale, as it had been the first time James had seen it, and James thought he could tell that it wasn't really a human hand at all, but simply a shape meant to look like one. This time, the hand didn't beckon. It remained upraised for a long moment. And then the figure turned its head. The cloak's hood was empty, but it was obviously looking at James through the Mirror. James gasped and stepped back.

Several things happened at once: a gust of wind roared in through the window, streaming the curtains and riffling the pages of the Focusing Book, the door to the Headmaster's office was thrown wide open, slamming against the inside wall, and light poured in from the hall, revealing a large, stalking silhouette. James plunged forward, trying to hide in the shadow of the Magic Mirror.

Before James' face, the mirror glass altered as the pages of the Focusing Book riffled. Scenes flickered past, rising and falling out of the silvery smoke. Elsewhere in the office, the portraits of the former headmasters were now awake, although none spoke. The silhouetted figure stalked through the room, searching it. James had been discovered. Whoever it was would see him at any moment. James huddled, pressing his hands to the glass, panting and terrified. He wished he could be anywhere else at that very moment.

And then, suddenly, he was.

There was a horrid, disorienting sense of flipping, as if James' entire body had been turned inside out. It was over almost before he knew what was happening. Suddenly, the scene in the Mirror wasn't the silvery smoke; it was the Headmaster's office, but backwards, somehow. James could clearly see the shadow of a large man moving over the floor on the other side of the Mirror, and then the man himself walked into view, very close. It was Merlin, his eyes wide and searching.

Without thinking James ducked below the surface of the Mirror. Desperately, he peered up, craning his neck to see if he'd been discovered. From this new angle, the scene in the Mirror looked different. In fact, the mirror itself was different. It was rather smaller, framed in silver, and hung on a stone wall rather than in a wooden frame. James frowned, confused and frightened. Now that he looked around, he could see he was in an entirely different place. Somehow, he'd come through the Mirror. When he'd wished to be somewhere else, he'd been touching the Amsera Certh, and the Mirror had apparently made his wish come true. How could he have been so careless? The Focusing Book's pages had been riffling in the wind, so there was no way to tell what page of the Book he had been sent to.

James tried to take stock of his surroundings. He was still huddled below the new mirror, hunkered in a narrow space between the wall and a sort of huge stone block. There were voices nearby. Very carefully, James raised his head. The block was about three feet high with an enormous, complicated shape rising out of it. With a start, James realized it was a statue. It looked vaguely familiar, although it was hard to tell from this angle. James peered around a monstrous carved foot, trying very hard not to breathe. The voices were very close by, and as James peered, he finally saw the owners of the voices. There were four people, all dressed in robes and cloaks of various colors. They were facing away from James, forming a rough line. Suddenly, there was a blinding flash and a puff of acrid smoke.